The Opiate Addict

He has very tiny pupils. His snow is dirty yet he appears to be happy. He chooses to dress in overly bright decorative scarves that have been out of style for 15 years.
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The Amphetamines Addict

Notice how happy, bright and shiny this snowman is! Look closely at his dilated pupils and dryed out mouth. He even sports his own hand made wooden pipe.
—

…and The Alcoholic

This snowman is depressed. His snow is dirty, his eyes are dull and his nose has gin blossomed. His clothes are clean but faded and old.
—

I come from a family of crafters and labourers who have what some may call a peculiar sense of humor. When you are couped up inside month after month during winter you need to do something to bide your time.

After living on Vancouver’s Eastside for four years I couldn’t help but laugh at these snowmen my folks made. All three do resemble mentally impaired folk art style candle holding drug addicts.

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This time of year is so beautiful. All things alive are growing and reaching their full potential. It is a time of memory, maybe from the year before or earlier. My hands are dirty as I write tonight. Dirty with sugestion and afterthought in not acting on forthought. It is becoming clear how all things we do as human beings or experience during our lifetimes could be considered common. Can something in a bottle actually aid in the process of discovery and self realization? Not the illegal kind but of the prescribed kind.

It is kind of like reaching a plateau. One walks the circumpherence, looks out and down. As to not looking up one could guess that he is on top. He is on top. Why would he want to descend down. Why is down considered bad? What makes the top better? Even his heartrate could be ascending wildly then down, down down. It bounces upwards again. One can see this if represented on a graph; a live graph. But he can hear it. Beat. ba. beat. ba. beat. Are heart beats similar to mankinds own desire?

Sometimes couldn’t it be possible that it is not a pointy graph. I think it should have more curves. An ocean’s tide; the waves… None of these things stop abruptly. It is not one point travelling fuck. It is a rythmical not a cacophany of life.

This lead me to thinking about what we had discussed on/from last Wednesday evening, to today. What do you think? Artists are not unlike any other creature. We are creatures of habit and observation. We place deeply feelings of others within ourselves regardless of it’s content. True also for memories, places, people and things. We tend not to forget yet when something is remembered it can take time for us to sort the pieces out to re-create it in our own understanding. An artist remembers, he sees and fortells through art creation. We are not soothsayers but posess some clairvoyance. We are not any weirder than you. We just express it 3-dimensionaly to see, hear, touch, interact or listen with.

And you know, yes, it could be, that, fear drives us to create.

We are the sensitive ones. The ones who love passionately and the ones who mourn with no shame. We know you. We see it. We do not inherently judge it. We are kind. We are crazy. Ok this is making me laugh. I feel like this has become a song and the question has arizen of whether to post or not post as I write this?

And one other thing!

Enjoy experience but leave it behind.
In the centre of that transition, turbulance combusts.
When the body and mind join
that is the true state of being.
All the fumes have evaporated
all the wounds healed
you talked to death
and faced yourself
knowing
you are a human being.

Don’t you realize the light at the end of the tunnel is yourself? Have you not fallen asleep and in the midst of that special time before you are asleep yet, not quite awake, you begin to see a tunnel. You are flying through a tube of many colors in a universe awash with stars. It twists and it turns as you spiral onwards beginning to look for the end. I reached it a few times. I saw this woman in disguise. She came to focus and said hello. We smiled and disapeared together.

Many times during my life has this similar remembered subconscious realization occurred, from early childhood onwards to now. All of us have distinct unusual brains. How wonderful.